


mask on

by rankarana



Category: BanG Dream! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)
Genre: (also slight implied kasutae), F/F, predominantly masurei, unresolved romantic tension and layer the player....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rankarana/pseuds/rankarana
Summary: Layer and Tae are both stuck in the happiest, strangest and neediest places they've been in their lives, and Masking...Well, Masking's there too, and for Layer, maybe that's the best part.





	mask on

**Author's Note:**

> i guess this is set between s2 and s3 of the anime?? honestly it could be later but since we still don't know how Rokka fits even in the manga i didn't want to risk contradicting myself
> 
> also usual warnings for masking smoking and etc etc

“We need to stop doing this,” Layer tells her.

“Doing what?” Tae replies.

…and, to be fair, maybe Layer does have to specify. Does she mean ‘stop balling her hands up around Hana’s hair and take them out of there instead’? Or maybe ‘get off of Tae’s knee rather than riding it’ – or the nuclear option of ‘let’s not make out under the bridge by the train station after busking, _again,_ is this the fourth time now--’

“All of this.”

“Mm.” Tae seems to get that, at least. When Layer makes her point, she pulls back, looking at the graffiti above the other woman’s head, like she’s trying to make a good decision. “But I don’t get to see you much, Lay.”

Which would make it worse, Layer thinks, that the few times they do meet up it always ends up with them kissing and holding and wanting each other, not talking about anything else they’ve got going on in their lives – almost explicitly _not_ talking about that – except the rabbit girl is good at this. Like, _too_ good, it feels weird knowing that Hana’s a big girl now and knows what she’s doing…

Clearly all the, uh,  __guitar practice has made her pretty good with her hands _._

“Yeah, I miss you too--” No, god, that’s not the right thing to say right now. “…I just feel like if we keep on doing this there’ll be consequences.”

“I’ll take the blame.”

“Not… like that.”

“Anything for you.”

Tae doesn’t seem to be getting it, so the natural response to that is to grab onto Tae’s shoulders, pull her in close again, and kiss her _hard_. Maybe if she was a little meaner she could tell her something like “ _you’re a lot more attractive when you’re quiet for once,”_ but not only is that not her style, it’s wrong. Hana’s hot—sexy— _appealing_ no matter what she’s doing, and Layer hates this feeling. She’s being completely utterly taken for a ride, even though right now she’s the one with _her_ tongue down Tae’s throat, Tae awkwardly squirming with one hand on the wall and the other on Layer’s side to steady herself.

Not much traffic at this time of night, luckily, although the few cars that _have_ passed them don’t seem to care. Probably not the weirdest thing they’ve seen under this bridge.

By the time Layer finally lets go of Tae enough that Tae (hopefully) gets the impression she can move back (though she keeps the kiss going for a few seconds longer, which feels _nice_ ), there’s a faraway look in her eye, a brief little pant as she comes back down to earth.

“You’re a good kisser,” Tae tells her, leaning into the side of her neck.

“Still not used to it?” Now she’s cupping Hana’s ass – it’s kinda flat, but it works – in an absolutely amazing display of ‘trying to discourage Tae from making out with her’.

“Mm. It’s weird.” Her breath is heavy against Layer’s neck, like that kiss _really_ took it out of her. “Sometimes I wish you were mine, Lay.”

…that’s not easy to reply to.

“Yeah?” She feels her voice waver as she tries to reply, slumping back against the wall a little and looking up at the dim darkness inside the arch of the bridge.

Tae, wordlessly, bites down.

* * *

There’s that weird… sensation, to hickeys. When someone leaves one – a proper one, not furtive sucks and nibbles but that real _bite_ at your skin – on you, you have that sudden reaction of ‘ _what.’_ and _then_ the complex thought process of deciding whether or not you want to let that person leave their mark on you (and, depending on that, maybe you make out with them a little longer under that bridge, before making up some hurried excuse about it being nearly  time for the last train (it wasn’t) and you’ve got something to get back to (she didn’t))--

and then, a little while after _that,_ you start feeling the pain, and sometimes that’s the best bit.

…Masking is totally staring at her. Well, Masking does that a lot, along with squinting at people when she’s about five centimetres from their face and looking into the middle distance with a kinda terrifying death gaze, but she’s _staring._

“Mask?”

“…mm?”

“You good?”

“…mmmm.”

…Layer’s asked herself this a few times now, but seriously, what _is_ Masking’s deal. Sure, that applies to the whole band, but they’re weird in a more… tangible way, all loud and aggressive and cutely exhausting. Masking is more… ‘comes to sit next to you on the steps of the wooden decking of Chu2’s penthouse apartment except she doesn’t sit, she squats there and looks down at you slightly.’

It’s a little bit hot, Layer thinks.

“Late night yesterday…?”

“Not that late.” Home by midnight, even.

“She really went at you, huh.” Maybe in different company, Layer would have popped on a turtleneck (and tried to endure the July heat) and played it cool, but with Raise, as long as she lets Pareo attack her with several layers of makeup before they get on stage, no-one seems to mind.

“Hah. Probably my own fault.”

“Huuuuh…”

Masking… knows Hana exists, and knows Layer’s a lesbian, but probably isn’t putting two and two together to get the weirdest four possible, so that’s relief. Hell, she prefers the idea that Masking might think she hooked up with some random woman at a bar to getting pinned against a dirty wall by her oldest friend (now, apparently, with at least some benefits).

God, what _is_ Hana to her? What was Hana doing in all their years apart? Even when they have proper alone time – alone time _without_ Tae immediately jumping on top of her – it’s so hard to get a real grip on her life. There’s Popipa and her rabbits, and at least twice she’s thought that Hana’s friend Rimi was actually one of the latter, and then one time they huddled up in a corner of Galaxy and Tae made her watch the music video to Beck’s _Wow_ while smiling approvingly at her.

“Want a cig?” Masking’s already shoving her hand into her breast pocket, then the other one, and then turns away from Layer for the first time today as she stares at her own body in confusion. It takes a shake of each leg for her to figure out the box is in fact in her trouser pocket.

“I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer, though.” Mouth wide in mild disappointment – she’s already got the box halfway out – Masking slides them back into her pants with resigned slowness.

“’kay.”

Silence falls, the early-evening skyline of south-west Tokyo soothing in a brutalist, smoggy way. It’s _home,_ at least, one that she hadn’t expected to find again, especially with this company. Hana’s one thing, but…

Chu’s insane, in a way even Layer has to admit is charismatic (and that’s _hard_ to get out of her – she’s stood behind enough wannabes to not bend easily); and Pareo has the kind of unbreakable will that makes Layer slightly worried she’s going to snap someday (but at least hopefully she’ll be on her good side.)

And then there’s Masking, the scent of smoke stuck on her weird sukajans no matter how much she washes them, the only person she’s ever met to look threatening in Gudetama boxers, the way she drums bordering on _breathtaking._

This weird moment of belonging, of _understanding,_ is only broken up by the sound of loud, overcompensating footsteps behind them, overly hard on the wooden slats to the point it seems like their owner almost wants to stomp right through the deck. Layer sneaks a look behind her, quickly ascertains it _is_ their prodigious producer, and turns back to look at the swimming pool on the roof instead.

“Alright, bitches. Practice in five minutes.” Ignoring it doesn’t work out, because a moment later Layer feels the tip of the thick sole of Chu’s platform loafers tap at the back of her neck, jolting forwards a little and grabbing onto the decking to help balance herself. For Masking’s part, she doesn’t even turn to face their boss, because she’s too, uh… fascinated with her current target. “Heyyy, Mask. What’re you looking at?”

“Layer.” No hesitation on Masking’s part for once, although the way she says it sounds more like _laaayeeerrrr._

“Haha. Gay. Aight, quell your _pussy flutters_ before you get in the studio. Pareo! Pareo? Hey, Pareo, where’s the Chex Mix…” Chu wanders off, stomping slightly less loudly than when she came over – she needs to assert her authority less over Pareo, is Layer’s theory.

“The fuck’s a, uh… purusshi furutta?” Masking asks, finally acknowledging Chu2’s presence now she’s left them well alone.

“English not your strong point?” To be fair, it’s Chu2nglish, which might as well be its own language at this point. (Layer, for the record, has absolutely no fucking idea what Chu was saying either, but it probably was at least kind of inappropriate?)

“Ehhhhh… nah. I mean, my Japanese ain’t either, so…” Masking’s voice trails off, her gaze still pretty solidly locked on to Layer’s neck. This actually slips by Layer for a good few seconds, until she raises her hand to rub at it, the stinging from a few hours ago now closer to just a dull little throb when she touches it, and hears Masking give out a harsh little pant.

It’s funny how _rough_ Hana is. Layer doesn’t doubt that it’s almost totally unintentional – and yeah, part of her wanted to bite her right back after that but _god_ that’d make the situation even worse – but she’s got zero self-restraint. Again, that’s a little attractive, but Layer wonders if Tae’s friends know about that side of her. Especially that one with the cute dumb hair, Kasumi, the one Hana seems really close to, kind of like… the new Rei, in a way, for Hana.

…she should be more jealous, but instead she just feels confused about whatever the whole Popipa deal is; and clearly it’s making her look concerned enough that Masking reaches over, touches her hand with those weirdly stubby but bony fingers, and almost tries to paw it away.

Layer, against her better judgement, complies, letting Masking’s finger wrap around her own, the callouses over the crook of the drummer’s knuckles gripping her index tight. It’s not a long hold, or _sincere_ or anything, and Masking lets go pretty quick (quick for her, at least) once Layer’s neck is properly exposed – honestly, it almost seems just like Masking’s doing it like this because she wasn’t sure how else to pull it down. What else could she do, just grab and hold her entire hand?

That would be, to quote Chu, _haha gay._

Imagine that.

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“You think that’ll help?” She has doubts, partially because that’s how she got into this situation in the first place.

“Y’never know…” Masking lets out that long, groaning laugh, like some weird vaporwave remix of herself. She’s leaning in real close, but despite everything, Layer doesn’t feel any… killing intent, from her.

Sure, that sounds dumb – Hana’s clearly rubbing off on her too much – but the way Masking looks at her is almost _calm_? Like she’s studying Layer, more than anything, looking at that mark with genuine concern and maybe a little hint of _interest,_ and it’s not _as_ hot as Tae’s but Masking’s breath is hitting right against the marks.

Layer realises she’s got this kinship with girls who talk slowly and make weird noises and at least on some level view her like she’s some kind of fuzzy animal. A wolf, maybe? That’d be cool. She doesn’t know what that says about her, but it makes her have a mild existential crisis either way.

That doesn’t stop when Masking leans in further, face more or less millimetres from Layer’s, and then promptly turns herself and lays her head down on the other woman’s shoulder. Her dyed hair brushes against Layer’s cheek for a moment before she lowers herself, getting _really_ comfortable there – impressive, considering how bony she is.

“Seems real tough, bein’ popular.”

“Oh, like you _aren’t._ ” Layer lets her head fall a tiny, tiny bit to her right. Ten whole degrees, maybe, enough that Masking’s dark roots are taking up half of one eye’s vision.

“Eeeeeehh.”

…she seems genuinely confused by that comment – it’s the Masuki ‘eh’ that ends on a low note, half disapproval and half just a lack of comprehension – and Layer wonders how it’s never occurred to her before. She’s tall, handsome in a kind of trashy way, feels just dangerous enough that she’d annoy your parents more than usual for going out with her; should be obvious, right? Maybe Mask’s even more of an enigma than Chu herself.

“Whatcha mean…?” she drawls out, _expectant_ this time, like she’s turning over what Layer’s just told her. It’s taking a while to click, but -- maybe Layer’s the bad one, here, because when Masking thinks and thinks and then doesn’t get any clarification, she sees the drummer actually get maybe a tiny bit awkward for once, long arms fidgeting and slowly going to clutch at her pocket again.

“Sure you… don’t wanna smoke?”

“Practice in five minutes. Or like, three now.”

“…ah, see, ‘cause it helps me calm down, a lil’…” The box is in Masking’s hand, now, her gently pressing  it into Layer’s side. Actually, more like her boob, at this angle.

“Not stopping you.” Clearly the social aspect is what Masking actually wants out of this, and when she’s not getting it, she pulls the box back, letting out a low little growl. It actually sounds vaguely dangerous, and that’s, uh…

Well, maybe that does things for Layer.

“After this, if the boss doesn’t find a way to destroy my throat again?”

\--the growl rises into a noise that isn’t quite a squeal, but it’s definitely pleased on some level. It’s cute, it’s nice, it’s—a different kind of appeal to that last sound, but Layer wouldn’t mind hearing it more often. She lets it ring out for a while, until Masking finally gets quiet, and they just… sit there.

The skyline gets a little darker, and Layer feels her hand slide a little more towards her friend, resting on her thigh--

“Masking! Layer! Get your asses in here!”

And Rei moves to gently shrug Masuki off that shoulder that she’s got so accustomed to, but before she gives up her pleasant little spot on the world’s least comfortable bones, she turns her head back towards her bandmate, lips brushing against her in a way that wouldn’t seem subtle if someone with actual social graces was doing it; so when it’s Masuki, it’s so obvious it’s almost painful.

Especially since her lips press against where Tae’s were last night, and she pauses, like she’s not sure whether to push harder or pull away—

“Also, have either of you guys taken the fucking Chex? Because Pareo says she hasn’t seen it!”

But, unfortunately, the choice is made for her.

_Unfortunately._

Masking scrambles to her feet with the finesse of a drunk sloth, and Layer stares at the pool for a moment more before getting up herself, staring at Masking’s slouched back as she wanders towards the studio, at odds with the rest of the world around her.

Wakana Rei _absolutely_ has a type.


End file.
